It's over. It's over, but Clotted Cream still feels that rush of panic, the adrenaline that won't let him rest. His heart is pounding in his chest, the gills along his ribcage are flaring with each breath, and the eggs that have yet to hatch and the baby that has already broken free are clutched tightly. Babies must be safe. Babies must not be eaten.

It's only then that he realizes what has happened to him, and he squeezes his eyes tightly closed, backing up further against Ourania's statue. It's new, and it's frightening in the panic. He's figured out the body he'd been given, but not this. This is different. He's almost half the size of the statue. He has claws for hands.

Someone is probably going to need to talk him down, at least for the baby dragon's sake. Poor thing is stuck.